


How The Best Thursday Morning of Raphael's Life Came To Be

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Jealous Raphael, Jealous Simon, M/M, i honestly don't even know what this is, my brain has decided that i don't need sleep, simon has a Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7031707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon and Raphael share an apartment, Simon hates Raphael's promiscuity <s>because he's in love with him</s> because it's loud and he can't sleep, Raphael thinks Simon's in love with Clary, and they each wallow in their respective manpain for a while.</p><p>(Inspired by this: http://corpidicarta.tumblr.com/post/145096691550/is-anyone-writing-an-au-yet)</p>
            </blockquote>





	How The Best Thursday Morning of Raphael's Life Came To Be

**Author's Note:**

> so _Teeth- **The Japanese House**_ and _Pink Lemonade- **The Wombats**_ are p great for this

It's Tuesday evening, and Simon can tell that Raphael has brought home another one of his conquests even outside of the door. Sighing, Simon sets his plastic bags down to reach for his keys--- wouldn't want to interrupt their lovely bedroom activities by knocking, now would he. 

There once was a time when he would have carefully listened in, and realizing exactly what _activities_ were going on inside, hurry to Clary's for an emergency sleepover with burning cheeks. But that was a long time ago--- now Simon is used to routine mechanics of quietly sneaking in, breezing past Raphael's door in the hallway, and flopping face down into his lonely bed with the volume blasted up on his headphones. Sometimes he even throws in an angry jerk off, not knowing whether it's due to or despite the noises seeping through the flimsy wall (he tells himself it's the later).

So he locks the door behind him, puts away the groceries with an irrefutable gnawing sensation in his chest, and does just that. The aggressive way he throws the tissues away doesn't make him feel any better.

* * *

It's Wednesday morning, and Raphael wakes up with the expression of a smug bastard who is free of lectures until late afternoon. He also got laid last night, and after a quick glance around him, Raphael's good day has turned into a great one--- there's no need for awkward morning-afters today. However, Raphael emerges from the bathroom to a distracted Simon spooning away Captain Crunch with angry vigor.

"Did you get more milk?"

Simon remains silent. Raphael rolls his eyes; he knows full well Simon heard him.

"What is it this time? Did I leave the stove on again? Did they cancel one of your precious comic books? Has it been more than five minutes since Clary updated you on her life?"

Simon doesn't look at him, and he seems to chew even faster, if that's possible. Raphael shrugs, stepping into the tiny kitchen in search of coffee. Simon swallows and sets his spoon down with a clunk behind him.

"No. I'm just late for class."

Raphael knows full well Simon's lecture doesn't start for another half hour. Furrowing his brows and pivoting back with mug in hand, Raphael looks up in time to see Simon sweep up his dishes and set them down in the sink with a strange, terse energy. Halfway to the door, Simon spins around and opens his mouth, but swings back around and is out the door before Raphael can even wave him off. Raphael returns to his coffee-making, determined to not dwell on it--- he knows better than to think about Simon, lest he get his hopes up. He slams down the coffee-mate container and firmly reminds himself, _Simon Lewis is in love with someone else_.

* * *

Simon arrives in the lecture hall too early, feeling even worse than he did in the apartment. He regrets coming at all. Technically, the Wednesday lectures weren't even required--- he could just leave now, hop on a bus and escape to the nearest Barnes and Nobles. Curl up with coffee and throw himself into the new issue of DC Rebirth to forget about Raphael and his inane fornication habits. In fact, he's just about to turn around when he spots Clary's bright hair, catching the sun and blinding everyone while she's waving him over. Simon smiles despite himself, and feels a little bit better.

* * *

"You never come to the morning lectures," Simon says, setting his backpack down next to Clary's. "What's the occasion?"

"Don't be dramatic. I come sometimes."

"Yeah, when the moon's blue and you and Izzy aren't grossly romantic."

At this, Clary slinks forward across the desk, teasing smile replaced by a pouty frown.

"Oh don't remind me, our six month anniversary is coming up and I'm still stressing about what to get her!"

Simon laughs but pats her back to comfort her, eager to direct himself away from the problems haunting his mind that he won't acknowledge. Clary is being ridiculous; everyone and their cat knows that they're both head over heels for each other; Isabelle wouldn't give two craps if Clary gave her glass slippers or a paper bag, and Simon tells her so. Clary offers him a soft smile in response, and Simon is relieved yet distraught to realize that it doesn't make his heart skip a beat like it used to. It hasn't for a while now, but the unfortunate combination of the recent depletion of his vault of excuses and the lull in schoolwork is only now forcing him to accept reality.

"---imon? Simon? Are you ok?"

"Sorry, what?"

"You were spacing out there for a second. Maybe you should start skipping morning lectures too, you look like you need some sleep."

Simon roars to life with the spirit of an angry miniature dragon, as if summoned, "Well, you should tell Raphael that. How the fuck am I supposed to sleep while his moans and grunts are soundtrack to my night every other week? Why can't he go over to their place? It's obviously not like he has trouble finding people that want to sleep with him--- We get it! You fuck a lot of hot dudes! It's like he does it on purpose to make sure I get not sleep."

Clary interrupts his rant with a hand on his shoulder and a calm, "Why don't you talk to him about it?"

"I, I can't."

"What do you mean you can't"

Simon decidedly refrains from making eye contact. Clary in Mom Mode is usually always right, and he doesn't want to listen to logic right now.

"I just can't! What if he thinks I'm against his gayness? What if he slams me against the wall? His biceps are seriously intimidating, by the way," Simon says. Why Clary is smiling?

Simon's cheeks then turn red when he realizes the possible implications. He rushes to add, "Not that I stare at them or anything, he just walks around with a towel after he showers sometimes. It's pure platonic, dude-to-dude appreciation. Which reminds me, who does that guy think he is? Put on some clothes for god's sake, not everyone needs to see how ripped you are."

Clary just keeps smiling, and Mrs. McKrugen is arriving in her signature whirlwind of 2-inch heels and mis-applied mauve lipstick before Simon can confront her about it. Instead of listening to her high-pitched droning, though, Simon spends the entire lecture turning his heart over in his head. By the time Clary's waving goodbye, Simon has had an unfortunate epiphany.

Simon realizes exactly how fucked he is.

* * *

It's Wednesday afternoon, but Raphael is oblivious as he's is rudely jostled from his nap by someone pounding on the door. He fumbles around his pile of comforters for his phone, and drags it close to his face to read the time. It's only 1:34 pm. Raphael pushes the blankets aside and stomps out, not bothering to put on a shirt or find his glasses. He stares down the blurry intruder with a murderous expression, until he realizes that it's _Simon_.

"What the fuck?"

"Oh my god, this is just proves my point. Fucking hell, I---"

"What, the fuck?" Raphael's squinting doesn't make Lewis easier to understand.

"Why. Don't you. Have clothes on?"

"What?" Raphael thinks he feels the beginnings of a headache. "I was in the middle of taking a nap before _someone_ interrupted me, but what's your problem?"

"You never have clothes on, you walk around with nothing but your underwear or a towel on when it's fucking _September_ , you bring home guys like Batman adapts emotionally stunted orphans, and you look good just waking up!" Simon's hands are waving about with alarming frantic energy. "Have you ever considered that the amount of clothes in your closet--- which is frankly, completely excessive--- are actually meant to be worn? Or that your loud sex noises might be inconveniencing someone else? Like your room mate, for example? You're single-handedly ruining my sleep schedule, Santiago!" 

Simon is panting, like he's pausing mid-fight, waiting for his opponent to throw the next punch.

Raphael just shakes his head and turns around, heading towards his room in soft strides. He doesn't want to do this today.

"Hey! Hey, I'm talking to you!" Simon scrambles to follow him, tailing him with indignant squawking.

Raphael settles in a seated position amidst his nest of fluffy blankets, tilting his head up at Simon expectantly.

"Well, are you expecting an apology?"

"Expecting an apology--- expecting a fucking apology--- well, yes I think I'm entitled to one!"

Raphael doesn't need glasses to see that Simon's jaw is hanging and his eyebrows are raised, incredulous.

"I'm so terribly sorry," Raphael deadpans, not sorry at all.

"That was fucking horrible. You weren't even trying, were you?"

Suppressing a smirk, Raphael rearranges his pillow and blankets and nonchalantly slips into his white cocoon.

"Raphael Santiago, this is a serious matter! I cannot believe you. I regret ever having decided to room with you. Fuck Magnus for setting this up."

"Do you?" Raphael says, half into the pillow, "Do you really?" His voice sounds inappropriately vulnerable, and Raphael regrets opening his mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing." No one can know that his promiscuity is really just a sad act, half out of spite and half for distraction, all because of _fucking Lewis_.

It's silent, and Raphael almost thinks that he's left when he hears Simon, quiet but clear, "No. No, not really."

Something in his voice makes Raphael shift to face him.

"No, of course I don't regret it."

Raphael pauses, pondering whether this is a good idea before deciding--- fuck it. There was never going to be a way for him to survive Simon Lewis anyways.

"I'm sorry," Raphael says, without chocking. It's a minor miracle. "For the noise. I won't bring anyone home anymore. And for the lack of clothes. I'll stop doing that too."

"Thank y---"

"Under one condition."

Simon groans to the ceiling, and whatever peculiar atmosphere that had previously settled over them is shattered. "Of course. I knew it. Nothing is _ever_ easy with you. God forbid you do something nice for once in your life."

Raphael blinks at him, unimpressed.

"Alright. Go on. Spit it out."

"Stop bringing Clary around."

Simon leans forward slightly, with a blurry, unflattering look of confusion that Raphael finds endearing nonetheless.

Raphael sighs, and extracts himself from his comfortable blanket-nest to sit up. "Stop. bringing. Clary. around. At least less than you do now."

"No. No, that's not fair at all. I know you hate her for no reason at all, but she's my best friend---" Raphael snorts. "And _we_ aren't making hot-and-heavy porn sounds at 11 pm."

"Ok. Then the deal's off."

"What? There wasn't a deal! This isn't how normal, mature people solve their problems." Simon throws his arms in the air like he's in some sort of business firm meeting, then walks to brace his shoulders closer to Raphael. "Look, we both live here, so we need to compromise. All I'm asking is to be able to sleep at night."

"Fine. I'll just bring my one night stands over earlier then. And you can bring your 'best friend' here less often. There. Compromise."

"You, my friend, have got a significantly skewed definition of 'compromise.'" Simon's shaking his head now, stepping even closer to him like a confrontation. "What have you got against Clary anyway?"

Raphael looks away and crosses his arms. "Nothing."

"Well, it clearly isn't nothing if you hate seeing her that much." Simon's bent down, face far too close for comfort, and pointing his index finger at Raphael's chest. "Is it because her general ability to function as a normal, civil, _pleasant_ person reminds you so much of how much you're _not_ that you have to drive her away?"

"I'm a perfectly civil person."

Simon bursts out in maniacal fake laughter.

"Yeah, and you also like women."

Raphael's stomach sinks and his throat freezes over. "Is that it? Do you have a problem with my _sexuality_ , Lewis?"

Simon's looming form splutters for a bit. "What? No! That wasn't what I- I wasn't---"

"Yeah, sure. Maybe you feel that way because you're in denial and my love life reminds you of what you don't have."

Simon's pointer finger is back, against his chest. "Oh please. I'm perfectly comfortable with my preferences." Raphael tilts his head to the side. "But don't try to change the topic. What sort of immortal grudge left over from a past life have you got against Clary?"

And the god damn words are out of his mouth before Raphael himself can process them.

* * *

"Nothing, except you're in love with her."

Simon stares. And stares. And stares some more.

"What?"

Raphael stares back, and his mouth hangs open for a few counts before he rolls his shoulders and straightens his back, scrambling to recover. "I said, because you're in love with her. It's pathetic, how you follow her like a lovesick puppy, doing everything she asks. Really, you should see yourself."

Nope. It's too late. Simon _knows_. He looks on, his cheeks straining from trying to rein in his smile. "Mhm."

"It's annoying to watch, that's all. I'm tired of having to feel sorry for you."

"Mmhm," Simon hums, leaning in forward now, bending one knee next to Raphael's on the bed. He reaches past Raphael to brace his arm against the back wall.

"S-simon?" Raphael's sounding rather breathless, and Simon finds that he likes it.

"Yes?" Simon drawls, inching closer still.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything, Mr. I-feel-sorry-for-you. Just having a conversation."

Raphael has his left arm behind him to prop up his frame. The tips of his ears are turning pink; Simon is delighted.

"Oh, and you're wrong, you know. I'm not in love with Clary."

"You're not?"

Simon's nose is nearly touching Raphael's. He's basically straddling Raphael now, and he lifts his free hand to set against Raphael's jaw.

"Not at all, actually," is Simon's response, whispered against the corner of Raphael's mouth. 

His lips rise to meet his, and they don't have much conversation after that.

* * *

It's Thursday evening, and it turns out Simon has no noise complaints if he's the one in Raphael's bed. Neither of them bringing anyone else home, and Raphael doesn't have to start wearing clothes in the apartment in the end. Perfect compromise.

**Author's Note:**

> Here i am: http://the-bane-ofmyexistence.tumblr.com/ in case you want to yell at me
> 
> (i feel like my subconscious is just taking advantage of these fics as Unwanted Song Rec Time  
> I might continue this  
> I also super want to write the clizzy anniversary fic off of this but i literally have like 5 other fic ideas Why am i like this)


End file.
